


In Which Tyler Gets Hurt and Brad Flips a Shit

by DeRez



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeRez/pseuds/DeRez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Precisely as the title says! Short ficlet, fiction- this never happened in an actual game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Tyler Gets Hurt and Brad Flips a Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if you're a Subban fan. I just picked a Habs player, and well, since from what I've seen- Marchy doesn't like Subban, so he was perfect for this. I have no idea how injuries like this would actually be handled, either so I just went with it!

Tyler had never been in so much pain before. Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t true- but in recent history, this was definitely the hardest hit he’d taken. Bergy and Chara helped him off the ice, and the trainer helped him down the tunnel, and all of this was a blur. His whole body ached, but mainly his ribs. God, he might have broken a rib or two. And that would mean he would miss a few games. Fuck.

The trainer had him sit down on the bench, and he gingerly helped him remove the gear he had on to get a better look at what he was dealing with. Tyler let loose a groan as his pads slid over his body, “Shit,” he cursed, and the trainer gave a low whistle when he removed his shirt. 

His side was already splotchy and forming a bruise. The trainer gave him a look, “I’m going to have to prod a bit in order to see if you broke anything,” he warned. Tyler gave a short nod, and the trainer knelt down and gingerly pressed his hands to Tyler’s sides. 

Tyler inhaled sharply, “That’s not just a bruise,” he grit out, because he’d gotten bruises there before and never had it been this bad. 

“No, it’s not,” the trainer frowned. “From what I just felt, it seems like you have a few broken ribs,” he said, “but on the bright side, you didn’t puncture a lung.”

“Just fucking dandy,” Tyler retorted, eyes narrowing. Great, he would definitely miss a few games, then. Fucking Subban, he had been going in for a line change, too. And no fucking penalty called. 

Tyler heard the buzzer sound, signaling the end of the second period, and his eyes went to the tunnel. “Well?” He asked the trainer. 

“Hospital,” the trainer said simply, “I’ll go get the ambulance notified,” he said, and he turned to hurry down the hall.

“Segs, you missed the show,” Thorty called as he sat at his stall, dousing his head with water and then wrapping a towel around his neck. “Marchy broke Subban’s nose, and I’m pretty sure that was with the first punch,” he grinned. 

Tyler looked up, eyebrows raised. Really? “Serious-“

“Of course I did! The fucking asshole crosschecked you when you were going in for a change! I would have knocked his teeth out, too, if the fucking refs hadn’t gotten in my way!” Brad was seething, and Tyler could spot a bit of blood on his knuckles- not just Subban’s. He obviously hadn’t held back. Just as Brad looked about ready to start angrily pacing, Tyler pulled him onto the bench and their lips met. 

He ignored the various hoots and hollers from around the locker room, because the way Brad instantly relaxed and kissed back was worth it. Sure, the guys knew about them, but they never really did anything like this in front of them. He pulled away, “Brad, it’s fine. You probably did more damage to him than he did to me,” he grinned. 

Brad let out a sigh, forehead resting against Tyler's, “I better have, and if I didn’t, I fucking will next time. _Nobody_ touches you,” he said, adamant. 

“Sorry to interrupt your moment, but you really should go to the hospital,” the trainer said from in front of them, and there were some laughs around the room. “The ambulance is waiting,” he motioned over his shoulder to the hallway. 

Brad scowled, “We’ll kick their asses back to Montreal for you, Segs,” he said seriously. 

They won with a final score of 6-2.


End file.
